The Visit
by Rico Perrien
Summary: At the time of the second task of the tri-wizard tournament, an old wizard came to visit his granddaughter, and an old mystery is resolved


**The Visit**

**Disclaimer**: The rights to Harry Potter, Hogwarts (and its surrounding forest), and all characters belong to JKR and her associates. She has allowed us to play with some of her stuff on a non-profit basis, so absolutely no money is being made by my writing this story. Creation of and responsibility for non-canonical characters, the plot, and all bad puns are mine. I have not given anyone else any right to republish this drivel.

**A/N**: This story was inspired, in part, by the old Scottish folksong Mairi's Wedding (also known as the Lewis Bridal Song). Scottish dialect must be assumed where appropriate for Mr Brown, as it exceeds my writing skills.

The 'usual suspects' were **not** rounded up.

Also, the birth dates for various characters vary from source to source, and the canonical ages vary as well, so I am making this up as I go along, assuming Hagrid (and an important OC) were at Hogwarts about the same time as Minera McGonagall and Tom Riddle (TR had to be slightly older, in order to be able to frame Hagrid for the Chamber of Secrets). I put Minerva a bit younger than Hagrid. If you demand that this is incorrect, go find something else to read – it's fiction. Contrary to the movie 'Fantastic Beasts…', Minerva McGonagall was not teaching at Hogwarts at the timeframe for the movie, as she would have been about five years old at the time (even she wasn't that precocious) – I have assumed it was her mother-in-law in the movie.

**Timeframe**: February 23 and 24th, 1995 at Hogwarts. AU

**February 23, 1995**

It was early in the morning when a tall red-headed man walked up to the Hogwarts' gates form Hogsmeade. He was wearing a kilt in a yellowish tartan, and in his right sock, he had a wand as well as his sgian dhu. The gates were still locked from the night before (to prevent some of Hagrid's pets from escaping and terrorizing the county), so the man sent a brief message Patronus charm towards Hagrid's small cottage. The big man exited his home, and followed by his large slobber-hound, approached the gates.

The large gamekeeper and Keeper-of-the-Keys, Hagrid, unlocked the gate, and asked, "Wha's yer business at Hogwarts sir?" Then he took another look at the man before him and remarked, "Ken Brown? Is that you? Blimely, I ain't seen you in, what is it, fifty years. Where ye bin, man? I don't see many of me old classmates around these days! When I got back from Azkaban when they sent me there and expelled me, ye were already gone "

The man responded in a thick Scottish brogue, "It's great tae see you too, Hagrid. My family pulled me out of Hogwarts when they sent you away, after Myrtle was murdered – said it wasn't safe here. Anyway, I been away from much of the mainstream of magical life since I left Hogwarts, back to the Islands tending sheep (you'd like them, they're magical sheep) but my grand-daughter invited me back to watch the Tri-Wizards' Tourney, or at least the second task. I thought I would arrive a day before, so I could have a wee visit and walk around the ald castle one more time. Will ye let me in?"

He was smothered by a hug from his old roommate. "Of course, get yerself in here. We should be in time for breakfast and a cuppa to take the chill off."

Walking up to the main doors, and having to run two steps to the gamekeeper's one, they were met at the door by the Deputy Headmistress. She looked at the fellow Scot, and exclaimed "Bracken Brown. What brings you here?"

The visitor squinted for a second. "Little Minnie Urquart? Is that you, all grown up and important the noo?"

The professor smiled at her old schoolmate, and responded "Well, it has been McGonagall for the last forty-five years, but yes, it is me. It's good to see you again. What brings you to Hogwarts on a cold February day?"

Mr Brown answered, "My grand-daughter Lavender invited me to come watch the second task of the Tri-Wiz. She says that one of her house, and yours too I understand, has been doing unexpectedly well in it."

Minerva smile, and reverting to the brogue of her youth said "Aye, young Harry Potter won the first task. Can ye imagine, he outflew a dragon!"

Brown shook his head in disbelief that such a thing could happen. In his limited experience with dragons (mostly trying to keep them away from his sheep), the idea of a boy outflying one beggared understanding.

As they walked towards the Great Hall, the professor reluctantly asked "Mr Brown, I have been wondering about something for many years. Can I ask…"4

He interrupted "My name, am I right?"

She nodded, smiling like she had been caught out in a shameful secret.

The man started, "Well, do ye ken the old custom of naming the first-born boy for his paternal grandfather?" The witch nodded. "Some also do similar for the grand-daughters, naming the first after her grandmothers."

"My sixth-time great grandfather was named Bracken by his father Sean Brown. Sean was a simple man, but honest and respected. He was a sheep herder on the Isle of Lewis, and it was said that he was not the brightest candle in the kirk, but a good man all the same. The family says that whenever he went tae the pub, his dogs went with him to make sure he found his way home."

"Old Sean had a large family, and not having the best imagination, named the bairns for what he encountered in his simple life. After Joseph and Mairi (they were still good Catholics in those days), there was Heath, Heather, Briar-rose, Ben and Glen, and then my namesake Bracken."

"Now, Bracken was a braw piper and fiddler, so he would pipe the brides to their weddings, and then lead the dancing at the ceilidh after the ceremony."

"The local 'dancie', or dancing teacher, was a young noble-woman, Lady Myrtle Green. At the ceilidhs, after the grand march in, she would teach the beginners some of the simple dances, then some of the more complicated ones to those experienced ones. Lady Myrtle and Bracken would often be at the same places, and they got along very well. Had it not been for their ranks, they might have married, but a gentlewoman marrying a shepherd's son would have been a scandal."

"Now you must know that both the Greens and the Browns had the magic, and it was said that the sheepdogs that looked to the Browns also had the powers, so the herding was very well done with nae sheep injured or lost. Another sign of the magic was on them was that when Bracken played, Lady Myrtle's feet seem to be a good foot above the ground."

"It was around ten years before the so-called Bonnie Prince came to reclaim his father's throne, that the laird's youngest, Lady Mairi MacLeod, was to wed. Of course, Lady Myrtle and Bracken were to attend. Bracken had come up with a new tune, which he played for the march in, and it was so popular that the hall insisted he play it again and again, with the clan's harper joining in. The clan's bard wrote down some words in honour of the new bride and the two who helped her celebrate, and he sang along to the playing. By the end of the night, the entire hall was singing it, and the song became what it is now."

"As time passed, my name was passed down, skipping one generation at a time."

"After Culloden and the butchery of Cumberland came the Clearances. Most of the Green family went over the seas, but the Brown were allowed to stay. Even the new Lairds need good shepherds to look after the flocks that replaced the Highland folk."

"After the fourth Geordie came to the throne, things were relaxed in the Highlands, and one of my family, a distant cousin of my grandfather, one John Brown, became good Queen Vicki's gilly. About that time, some of the Green family returned to Lewis, and some even attended Hogwarts in years past, as my own granddaughter does to this day although her immediate family had moved south some time back. I was good friends with one such in my time here as well, but she died. The family called me home after that and this is my first time to the castle since."

By this time, the two old acquaintances had reached the Great Hall, and Minerva insisted that Bracken sit at the head table as her guest. But before he could mount the elevated platform, a shout of 'Granpapa!' rang out and Lavender Brown ran into her grandfathers outstretched arms.

**February 24, 1995**

Sitting in the bleachers at the edge of the Black Lake, there was a lot of Scottish-tinted grumbling.

"What misbegotten fool decided tae hold this task beside a half-frozen lake in Bloody February? If I had wanted tae watch a bunch of cold water for an hour on a February day, I could hae stayed home on Lewis, and watch the silkies swimming! Thank the gods I didna go regimental the day" was heard in the stands where an older man was sitting with his pretty (and rather buxom) granddaughter.

Hearing this rant generated a fair bit of laughter among the audience, to the consternation of the officials gather to witness the grand spectacle which was turning put to be rather boring. Most of those in attendance had agreed with the old Scot, and we seriously less than impressed with the stuck-up idiots in charge (although the males had been very much impressed when the French champion had slipped off her outer robes revealing a one-piece, or rather half-piece bathing costume more suited to the Rivera in summer than Scotland in winter).

While they sat there, freezing their 'whatevers' off, Bracken and Lavender told stories of their times at Hogwarts. Lavender eventually asked why he had left Hogwarts before graduation, Bracken mentioned that in his year, a young witch had been killed, and his family had pulled him out of school when his friend and dormmate had been thrown in prison for the murder. The girl said it sounded like the stories she had heard about Hagrid, and how he had been innocent and that he had been framed by a schoolmate. Bracken nodded, and said he had heard the same thing, and that he couldn't believe his gentle (but huge) friend could have been responsible. The only thing he had really missed about Hogwarts was Hagrid. The big man had been the only other one who preferred animals to people.

He had enjoyed potions and herbology, as they were relevant to his childhood life in a shepherd's family. Turning a stick into a needle might come in useful, but most of the classes at Hogwarts were really aimed at the upper classes – the gentry, the aristocracy, or 'betters', as it were. As a Highland Scot whose family had survived the Clearances, he had an inbred distrust of those who lorded it over others. Binn's history lessons reminded him too much of watching over a flock of sheep grazing, and there are not too many animals dimmer than a bunch of sheep. Most of the classes had stuck him as completely useless.

Lavender told him of the on-going hatred between Gryffindors and Slytherins, to which he nodded, and said that it had been no different in his day. Hufflepuffs were thought to be too busy hugging each other and talking of house loyalty to bother others, and the Ravenclaws were too busy trying to outdo their own housemates (and being really nasty about it) to be too annoying to those from the other houses.

As they sat in the cold bleachers, they watched as the young and beautiful French witch was recovered from the lake, bleeding badly, at the half-hour mark. About fifteen minutes later, the sturdy Bulgarian trudged out of the lake carrying a very wet witch with hair that would have been bushy if it were dry, followed shortly after by the Hogwarts champion carrying his lady friend. At almost the end of the hour, a black-haired youth emerged from the water, pulling a red-headed boy and carrying a young blonde girl who looked a lot like the French witch.

At this point, Bracken stood and said "I don't need to hear some pompous windbags talking about what scores they plan to give that lot. Those young people just went through trials that the idiots-in-charge would never dare to take on, and yet they feel entitled to sit in judgement over them. Load of dung, that. It's like at the sheepdog trials - I like to see the dogs work the flocks, but the judges just sit there and praise the dogs for something that they themselves are utterly unable to do. I hae nae use for that."

As they walked back towards the castle, and a warm lunch, the two spoke about his days at Hogwarts. He then mentioned that the girl who had been killed had been a good friend of his too, and that he was looking forward to dating her and maybe becoming more than friends, and that she had been part of a family that had been long-terms friends with his ancestors. At about this time, he mentioned that the girls name had been Myrtle, and that she had been bullied by her own dormmates.

Lavender's eyes narrowed. "You said her name was Myrtle, and that she had been bullied by her housemates?" Bracken nodded sadly. He said sadly "I was a 'Puff, and thought this was a despicable practice. Myrtle was one of the Greens whose family had moved south from the Hebrides, and she was a braw lass. We were good friends, and I thought there was a chance of becoming more, but then she died."

Lavender thought for a moment. "I think she is still here. Myrtle is not a very common name, and I have heard about one. There is a ghost haunting one of the girls' bathrooms called Moaning Myrtle, and one of my dormmates says that she was killed about the time you would have been here. I wonder if that is, or rather was, her. Most of us avoid that washroom, because her moaning about how one of her house was mean to her and teased her about her glasses, and her hairstyle, and everything. That sounds like it might be your friend."

Her grandfather smiled. "Yes, that sounds like Myrtle. She was always a bit sensitive, being a city-girl. In the country, ye learn to take things as they come, regardless."

Lavender looked at her grandfather. "They say that ghosts stay in this plane of existence because they have some unfinished business here. I don't know much about that and it may be just a dumb rumour so people can pretend they know something about ghosts. I wonder what a young girl could be waiting for, what she has as unfinished business."

The old man smirked at his young, and assumed relatively innocent, relative (although Lavender was 15 and very pretty and living in a boarding school where they dealt with all the forces of nature, so who knew). "Perhaps she was waiting for her first kiss, or her first time bedding a man. What do you think? Maybe what we need to finish before we pass on is just one of those mysteries that the Fates never bother to let us in on. Perhaps, as some writers have claimed, our existence only serves any universal purpose if we have babies to pass on our genes. Are you up for making babies with someone yet?" As Lavender shook her head and blushed fiercely at thoughts of these possibilities, he continued, "Well, lunch first, or a visit to the loo?"

Lavender blushed. "If you don't mind, we have been sitting out in the cold for over an hour and ah…"

The old wizard smiled and nodded. "Of course. Girl's bathroom it is."

Moments later as they entered the second-floor girls' washroom, Lavender ran into the first cubicle, leaving her grandfather looking through his completely fogged-up glasses, when the spectacles, which had been out in the cold winter air for over an hour, hit the humidity.

(A/N: For those of you unfamiliar with this phenomenon due to living in a more temperate climate, depending on the outdoor temperature, your glasses may fog up, or if cold enough, freeze over. This can take up to 20 minutes to warm up and clear.)

His perception of a blurry room was interrupted by a pair of feminine shrieks, followed by an extremely whiney voice yelling "What the hell do you think you're doing? It's bad enough that I was murdered, and worse that they exiled me into this damned bathroom after they refused to let me keep haunting Olive Hornby, but do I have to be peed on or shat upon on top of that?" Had his glasses been clear, he would have seen his granddaughter racing from one cubicle into another farther from the doors, while frantically rearranging her clothing.

An irate ghost barreled out of the first cubicle, looked over at the man, and started to scream "Boys aren't allowed in here! This is the girls' room. Get out!"

She stopped, and looked puzzled. Floating in the air, the ghost appeared to be a young woman wearing glasses with her hair in pigtails. She was wearing (if a ghost can wear clothes) Ravenclaw robes.

She looked again at the man. "Bracken Brown? Is that you? How did you get to be so old?"

He nodded. "Hello Myrtle. I'm so sorry that I didn't come back before. Nobody told me you had come back to Hogwarts, and they had kept me away because it was too dangerous. With the Slytherins always mocking those of us who were not of their so-called upper class, I stayed away. Nobody told me that you had come back here or I would have come. I would definitely come, Myrtle. For you."

She rushed towards him as he held his arms out. They hugged, although she felt not quite solid.

"Oh Kenny, I missed you. They teased me and forced me to come in here or be exorcised completely. No one cared at all. I was an orphan, so they had no family to notify. Nobody else cared, and you were gone when I got back. I think I understand now. You cared, but you didn't know and couldn't know, because nobody told you either."

As they stood there holding each other, Lavender came out of her cubicle and looked in amazement at her grandfather fondly hugging a ghost.

Myrtle looked up into Bracken's face (she was quite short) and said "Thank you for coming. I just needed to know that there was at least one person who cared." With this, she started to fade. "Goodbye Kenny, and thank you again." And then she was gone.

Lavender came up to her grandfather and asked, "Where did she go, grandpa?"

The old Scot shook his head. "My dear, I don't know. I just don't. The priests of all types claim they know what our options are, but I don't think they really know either. I don't think anyone really does."

"From the stories you hear, I would have expected there to be bright lights, or dark shadows, or there was this muggle movie where they had calypso music all the time, so I don't think she's in Limbo either. I guess that's the eternal question, Lav. For all of us."

"At least, she seemed to be contented when she left. It's hard to imagine that a single caring visitor was all she was waited for, for fifty long years. Just one! Not just polite, but who actually cared enough to know about her, other than just calling her Moaning Myrtle. Fifty years, and I was the first. Sad. So sad."


End file.
